


would you ever feed each other (do we ever have power)?

by Dawn_Blossom



Series: Chrom/Grima in Askr [12]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Family Fluff, M/M, the Aether Resort Dining Hall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: “Okay, fine, maybe this WAS a bad idea,” Kiran finally admits to Grima. “But how was I supposed to know NOBODY in your family knew how to cook?”
Relationships: Chrom & Gimurei | Grima & Lucina & Marc | Morgan, Chrom/Gimurei | Grima
Series: Chrom/Grima in Askr [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1099986
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	would you ever feed each other (do we ever have power)?

**Author's Note:**

> No, of course this series isn't dead. It's the one universe I've got that already has enough development to just throw fluff into.
> 
> Title is from [Hunger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwAcdFSnet4) by AURORA because I thought it was poetic.

In Grima’s defense, he has no memories of ever “cooking” in his life. In his dragon form, he can devour nearly anything. No meal preparation required.

But Kiran insists, absolutely _insists,_ that everyone try cooking in the newly renovated dining hall at at least once.

Foolish summoner. They hand him a basket full of fresh eggs. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” they ask. 

There is a reason one is not supposed to put all of their eggs in one basket.

“Er… And just what do you call this dish?” Chrom asks when it is presented to him. Beside him, Lucina visibly recoils, while Morgan plasters a fake smile on her face.

“It is called ‘Spring’s Bounty,’ or so claims this cookbook,” Grima says. The dish he has served does not much resemble what is displayed in the book.

“Oh, yes,” Lucina says with remarkable bravery. “I think I’ve heard of it.”

“I’m sure it’s…” Morgan cuts off a tiny piece with her fork. The steam that rises from it somehow seems sinister. “It’s…”

Grima lets out a growl, knocking the utensil from her hands before she can get it anywhere near her mouth.

“Ill-advised for human consumption,” he snaps. “I am aware. You don’t have to pretend!”

He makes a valiant effort to storm out of the whole building, but Chrom catches him before he can even open the door.

“Please,” Chrom says, squeezing Grima’s arm gently. “Someone else can make breakfast. But at least stay with us.”

And Grima can never deny those shining eyes of his.

* * *

Lucina knows little more about cooking than Grima does, which Grima supposes is the natural result of spending your entire life fighting a war. She only knows how to make simple dishes.

“And here we have berry jam,” Lucina says, spooning a little onto everyone’s plate. “These kind of berries are common in both Ylisse and some parts of Plegia. The jam will keep for a year if you can it.”

“This is really good, Lucina,” Chrom says. But he has pride in everything his daughter does, so Grima takes the statement with a grain of salt.

Tasting it himself, he admits that it is at least palatable, unlike the monstrosity that was his own failed dish. It is a bit thin, but he suspects that is intentional. It would stretch for longer that way.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Morgan agrees. “But, um… Is this ALL we’re getting for lunch?”

“Oh…” Lucina glances at the plates. “Was that not enough?”

“You don’t have any more left, do you…” Grima says.

“I should have realized,” Lucina says, her face falling. “Please… Forgive me.”

“It is hardly your fault that Kiran failed to give you enough berries,” Grima growls. 

“It was probably the last of them. I heard we’ve been having some problems with withering crops lately,” Morgan says. “The heroes on harvest duty keep forgetting to do it.”

“Er, Morgan…” Chrom frowns. “Didn’t you tell us YOU were supposed to be on harvest duty last month?”

“... Oops?” Morgan smiles sheepishly, but Grima isn’t fooled.

“You were too busy digging pitfall traps again,” he accuses.

“Oh, would you look at that? Suddenly I’m not hungry at all,” Morgan says quickly. “I just remembered that I have to go… study! Yeah! There’s always more magic to study! I’m going to go do that!”

Grima rolls his eyes as his daughter rushes off.

“That child…” he mutters. No matter how many times he warns her that her traps are becoming too predictable, she always goes back to her favorite trick.

Not that he’s complaining _too_ much. She caught one of the Corrins the other day. Some heroes never catch on.

“So…” Chrom looks between his daughter and Grima. “Does that mean we AREN’T ordering any more lunch?”

* * *

Morgan swears that she knows how to cook, despite having nothing in her memories to suggest she does.

“It’s just a feeling,” she says, cheerful as ever despite unanimous skepticism.

Surprisingly, the steaks she serves are actually quite good.

… Or at least, Grima thinks they are. Chrom and Lucina are grimacing beside him.

“Morgan, ah…” Lucina smiles hesitantly. “Perhaps you should have cooked these a bit longer?”

“But I thought rare steaks were supposed to be the best,” Morgan says.

“This is less ‘rare’ and more, er…” Chrom chuckles awkwardly. “Not exactly ‘raw’… but only technically.”

“Well, Father likes them!” Morgan says. “Father, do you want some more?”

Grima sighs. He has already finished his portion. He does indeed like the dish, but he is the only one.

“Sit down,” he says resignedly. “We’ll order something else.”

* * *

Chrom is the only one of them with extensive experience in the kitchen. Granted, most of that experience involved him and his sisters sneaking treats they weren’t supposed to have. Still, he has at least theoretical knowledge of how to make a proper dish.

His practical ability, on the other hand, is lacking.

“This looks like something that has been through dragonbreath,” Grima says.

“... Thank you, Grima, for sparing my feelings,” Chrom snaps.

Grima averts his gaze.

“Not that it’s any worse than mine,” he concedes.

It’s not as though he cares whether his lover can cook or not. This whole endeavor was just one of Kiran’s whims. 

(And yet some not-so-insignificant part of him is nonetheless relieved that Chrom is not better than him at this insignificant task.)

“This shameful dish,” Chrom says, sighing, “was supposed to be ignis brûlée.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to burn it THIS much, though,” Morgan says.

“Oh, Father…” Lucina sighs. “Ah, perhaps we can simply dig beneath the burned part, and…”

She digs deeper into the concoction, only to fish out what appears to be a piece of eggshell.

“Oh,” Chrom says. “Does that part not get blended in with the rest? The book said to use the whole egg…”

“Let’s just go out for ice cream,” Morgan suggests.

* * *

“Okay, fine, maybe this WAS a bad idea,” Kiran finally admits to Grima. “But how was I supposed to know NOBODY in your family knew how to cook?”

“My family,” Grima says slowly, the notion of truly being perceived as _part of one_ threatening to overwhelm, “is fine the way it is.”


End file.
